Once upon a time there was a little Fairy Bee name BeeBush. She had long hair, long legs, diffused wings and a sting.

She was an extraordinary fairy. Her mother came from a far away land were things were quite different and that is why being different was a little complicated. Mrs. B was born in a mountain range where fruits were humongous, flowers didn’t die in autumn, clouds were darker and houses were made of stone.

BeeBusch lived in inside a pine tree trunk. Her house and furniture are all made of wood with many dangle things she has collected. Her bed specially dressed with the delicate empty cocoon of a Monarch butterfly, was as old as her mother and was extra special because more than one fairy in the family have slept on it. An antique bed.

The summer was coming to an end and with the change of seasons new things were coming. The most important being that this little fairy bee was going to start using her new short name so that other fairies of the forest can pronounce it.The awful need for repeating and spelling the words that came out of her mouth so naturally was coming to an end. But that was the way people were named in the mountain range were her parents were born. Fairies had four words in their names no matter what: two names and two last names. It was a must that the first was already used by other fairy in the close family like the wood bed. The second has a magic meaning and was revealed when babies were born according to their destiny. The first last name was the father’s provenance place and the second one, the mother’s. A bit hard for BeeBusch to understand why men many times men have to take the first turn, like with her last name. But anyhow, that was the tradition and traditions shall never be broken.

Out of the mind of BeeBush a six year old fairy bee:

Tradition is like… something that all the family does again and again to feel that they are really part of that family, I guess.

In this forest it is much better for your name to be short. Trust me. Been there, done that. So my Momma B cut my name down in a way that could be meaningful still. She left me with two “B’s” for me to remember to give my Beautiful Best, my two “E’s”with antennas so I never forget I am a fairy bee and the “usch” at the end kind of sounding like her smooching kisses, for me to know she loves me and make love the most important thing in life. So that is the way I will go to school this year hoping they don’t start to ask about my diffused wings and my hidden sting.

It is going to be so hard to wake up before dawn without raising my left eyebrow. That is a very common gesture I can only make like Mom when I am about to lose my temper. But at the end I am excited about seeing my friends again; speak my other language and show off how much my hair has grown during the summer.

Speaking “Glish” instead of “Nish” is so much easier for me. I can say everything much faster. But Momma says the forest fairies can’t rolled their tongues around to speak “Nish” because they never had their “Guasca’s soup” when they were little.Guasca is a magic herb only found at the mountain range.Sometimes I think I know almost everything but my mother knows a little bit more. She once told me that Grandma Jo made her drink all her life time spinach soups as a fairy girl, telling that her eyes will become green by twilight, but it never happened. It was deception and now I am wondering if Mom is doing the same with the soup stories for me to understand.

My poor sweet Momma B wanted her eyes not only to be green but to look straight again. Her stubborn left eye remained looking to her nose all the time. Oh, I can picture her wearing her tiny vampire shaped pink classes and it tickles me. She was like that for many years. Crossed eye I mean, until a good spell from a handsome warlock make those eyes straight again. Nobody made ever fun of her; she went to school with only girls and was never bullied or anything. And she liked it that way. It was part of her destiny.Because Mom and Grandma Jo spent hours trying to teach her left eye how to stay in place. They colored in red all the letter “a’s” and “o’s” in the entire weekend newspaper and they string beads three times a week for a gazillion childhood years: Tadaaaa! That was how my Mom became a Jeweler.

Truth to be said, I have seen those brown eyes crossed again at night. Because she has been working until very late at night in this magical secret project and we don’t know what it is until she completes forty third full moons. It is about me and about her. It is about magic and the joy of being different. If she was still living in the mountain range she wouldn’t be so tired. But she wouldn’t have me either. Me, her little fairy bee.

We’ll see. I have school tomorrow.

By Beatriz De Irisarri & Buendía

PS: Please excuse my mistakes and miss-spells. I am that foreing Momma B still learning to write in "Glish". All corrections are more than wellcome.